Totoka River silver

cold seeped through the listener's thin furs. a deep shudder took hold at the base of their neck and snaked down their spine; a stark feeling, like premonition. perhaps it was eyes she felt upon her. the eyes of spirits.

inkstain paws lingered and fell slowly as they descended upon the stretch of sand alight with glossy deltas. the listener drifted to stillness like a feather falling to the ground alongside a shining span of olympic blue, and gazed deeply into the shallow water.

spirits whispered at her flanks, a chorus like wind through leaves. past the din, a deeper voice, melodic where the spirit voices were a steady thrum. divinity woven into music. the ache of mortality melted away, and a great warmth came over her.

come to me.

she was close, so close — to home, truth, purpose, sanctity.